Jezebel
by Terra Bird
Summary: Ciel Phantomhive has been summoned by Her Majesty to assist another detective under her employ in a set of particularly strange cases worldwide. Accustomed to working with only Sebastian at his side, Ciel has difficulty working alongside another of his social rank. However, it seems aristocracy is not the only thing they have in common.


_Jezebel_

Prologue

_To think that peace ever existed is a ridiculous thought. A mind addled by simplicity and amusement is one of naivety. I was naïve once. I see now, with eyes that desire only the red of their blood but see only the blackness of nothingness, that I cannot end this without your help._

* * *

There existed a manor situated away from that of the Phantomhive and Trancy residences, despite the similar surface of their jobs. The Day estate was secluded from the rest, far removed from the dangers of overexposure to human contact most of the time. Their work was more shrouded than that of the aforementioned two families simply because of the depths they delved into. It was a familial trait, the seemingly psychotic analysis with which each person observed any situation. As such it was only natural that the Queen would so carefully move these pawns.

Very similar to the Phantomhives in the way they worked, the Day family focused on careful precision and justice. They worked without exception of flaw. They specialized in the shadier of jobs, including torture and interrogation. They were monitored meticulously by Queen Elizabeth and kept on tight leash. The Phantomhives and Trancys constantly worked to keep up with and clean up after the Days, cutting off and covering any tie the Royal Family left in the wake of the Days' careful but gory work.

But the material world held less of a connection with the Days than the underworld did, again much like the other two families with which they were associated. They worked to keep balance between the supernatural and the normality most had grown accustomed to. They spread their reach from the manor worldwide using their secrecy and power despite their unrecognized authority in most places outside of England.

As the Phantomhives were the dogs and the Trancys were the spiders, the Days were considered the Queen's serpents, slippery and vain and much too manipulative for their own good.

Nevertheless, they lived in a great manor with assured privacy and magnificent décor. Or rather, one person did.

On this particular evening, that one person, heiress of the Day family name, entertained a rare but particularly sticky guest. Her study's air was tainted by cigar extract, a now-familiar situation due to the constant occupancy of the chair across from her. The chessboard between them remained untouched, as it had been since the day the heiress discovered that this man did not in fact fancy the game.

It was not so much the addiction he donned or the unkempt way he presented himself that disgusted Jezebel Marie Day. The sensitive attitude and arrogant tone he carried irritated her to no end. However, Jezebel was a girl of careful precision and leading this man on was no difficult task. Currently, the broad smile beneath the surface of her mind was physically replaced by a troubled frown. Acting was an important part of her job.

" . . . And despite your affliction, your capabilities both in and out of the business world are miraculous. I must applaud you on your success." Her business partner's rambling finally ceased. Jezebel groaned internally. What a disgusting man.

"Yes, well," she began, her voice quiet and melancholy. "One grows stronger as they recover from tragedy. I strongly doubt much can shake me now." Jezebel's frown flattened out, her expression fibbing realization in display of false weakness. Her eyebrows straightened out in appropriation.

A familiar, icy cold hand rested itself on her shoulder bracingly, letting her know of his presence behind her. Of course, Jezebel had known all along, but letting that on might have shaken her partner. Finally, she tilted her head towards her butler, clad in his dapper black suit that she could not see. She smiled faintly at him, and his grip loosened, their act perfected and convincing. The man across from her was none the wiser, she could tell. Yes, for a blind girl, Jezebel saw an awful lot.

Her voice and expression hardened as she turned back to her business partner, the grease in his hair so thick she could smell it. "Well, if that was all you needed to say, I would appreciate it if—"

"Just a moment, Countess Day. I have one last thing to discuss with you, but I would prefer to speak in your company and only your company." His voice had iced over as well, the obvious intonation he spoke with almost threatening.

Jezebel frowned genuinely now, her colorless eyes displaying her skepticism. However, she was a rather peculiar owner of the Day family name, and often her careful side evaded her. Without turning to him, she commanded her butler.

"Lucian, please return the tea tray to the kitchen. I will ring when you are once again needed."

The hand on her shoulder fell away. "Of course, mistress." Without another word, Jezebel felt his presence leave her side.

As soon as the door closed, Jezebel's partner's attention was fully directed upon her. He idled in making small talk. "You have quite the loyal servant there, Miss Day, though I do say he gives me the willies."

Jezebel uncrossed her knees and settled for a polite re-crossing of her ankles. She leaned back in her chair, arms settled on the armrests. Her face was thoughtful now, the weakened girl from before replaced by the austere woman she decided to be.

"I count my blessings carefully, Mister Stanley. I advise you do the same. Life does not treat those blinded by prosperity kindly. I assure you I am quite knowledgeable on the subject." She could almost feel his false smile falter. "Please," she added. "Get on with it. Children can be ever so impatient."

Mister Stanley huffed, dropping his polite act. "You've got a lot of nerve talking to me that way, young lady. If you weren't a girl I would—"

"—You would treat me exactly the same as you are now." Jezebel glowered. "I refuse any 'special treatment' simply because I am a girl. You will treat me with respect, Mister Stanley, and respect only, lest you wish to terminate our agreement."

She could feel the rage rolling off of him in waves. He shifted slightly in his chair. Jezebel knew where this conversation was going; she had seen it from the start. Why else would she move Lucian, her precious pawn, away from his dear queen?

"I hope you've fortified your dwelling well, Miss Jezebel. The night can wield unseen dangers even in the moonlight." Mister Stanley puffed on his cigar contentedly, his message passed on.

Jezebel sighed, resting her head on the back of her hand, tilting her face away calmly. "Is that so, Mister Stanley? Even for those granted with unwavering sight? I've long since grown from a child who feared the dark."

Mister Stanley shifted again, arranging himself more comfortably, Jezebel knew. "I suppose that is what happens when one is consumed wholly by it, my dear." He was mocking her. Jezebel's frown deepened. He believed he could make a fool of her yet. His tone changed again, a tad more lighthearted than it had been before. "I am much smarter than any would have you believe, Countess Jezebel Day. I know much more about you than you think."

Jezebel's left little finger was the only sign his statement unsettled her as it gripped the armrest more forcefully. "Surely you know then, Mister Stanley, that lies and rumours are just as large a part of fact as you would believe them to be."

The chair across from her jolted back as Mister Stanley jumped to his feet aggressively. "Don't test me, Miss Jezebel. I know _everything _about—"

"I have returned the tea tray to the kitchen, Malady. Is there anything else you would have me do?"

Jezebel sensed Mister Stanley turn his head swiftly to see the butler, startled by his sudden appearance. Her left little finger released the armrest and with it the small thread attached to the bell across the room. She stood, hands clasped in front of her waist. "Yes, Lucian. Escort Mister Stanley to the door." She turned toward the butler to affirm her authority.

"Of course, Mistress. As you wish."

Mister Stanley moved begrudgingly towards the exit to her study. As the door closed, Jezebel turned to return to her desk. Her hand grazed the chess pieces, knocking one particular white piece to the ground. She clucked her tongue disapprovingly at her clumsiness, smiling cruelly. Moving her hand to the skin just behind her right earlobe, she sighed. "My, my. I seem to have dropped my pawn. Take care of it for me, Lucian."

His words echoed back to her in her head. "Yes, Malady."

Jezebel's smile broadened as she settled herself back into her desk chair. Her hand left her ear and she clasped it with the other on the finished wood surface of her worktable. She had faith in Lucian to get the job done. After all, if he couldn't clean up a simple pawn, then what kind of butler would he be?

* * *

The pair strode silently down the corridors of the mansion. Lucian held no desire to be near this man any longer, but then he hardly held much desire at all. As long as he serviced Jezebel Marie Day, his desires reflected hers and hers only, excluding the one purpose he held in following her every word.

They reached the entrance to the Day estate. Lucian turned to Mister Stanley, bowing curtly. "I will fetch your carriage, sir. Please, wait here."

As the strange butler disappeared through the grand oak doors, Mister Stanley observed the manor's entry hall. The marble floor and pillars complemented the dark wood panelled ceiling, the tapestries on the walls woven in intricate patterns of black and gray. There was little colour in this estate, Mister Stanley realized, perhaps in reflection of the Countess's handicap. Looking back, the only colour he had in fact seen spanning all of the time he'd been here was the exquisite fuchsia broach strung stiffly around Miss Day's throat. A family heirloom, Mister Stanley assumed, and a beautiful one at that. After he rid the manor of all occupancy, that was the trophy he would keep, he decided.

Outside the manor, Lucian tended to Mister Stanley's carriage. His violet eyes examined the posh interior, the cushioned seats properly rid of any lint. He mirrored the cruel smile of his dear Mistress, situating the cushions in such a way so as not to expose his gift to the man. Deeming the carriage fit for travel, he summoned Mister Stanley to its interior.

Lucian offered the man his hand in assistance, but he was turned away. "Oh, I am quite alright, thank you Lucian." Retracting his hand, Lucian bowed once more in farewell, if only to hide the sadistic smile creeping onto his face.

"Of course, sir. Pardon my intrusion."

Mister Stanley snorted as the carriage door was closed, knocking ash from his dying cigar. Incoherent grumbling could be heard from inside the carriage as well as the distinct sound of Mister Stanley lighting a new cigar. Lucian took a step back as the coach urged the horses forward, turning away to re-enter the manor. It was only as he pushed the great doors open that he heard a distant rumbling, almost like thunder in an overhead storm.

Lucian closed the doors behind him, a pleasant smile replacing the darker one that had graced his face moments before. He calmly made his way up to his Mistress's study, knocking twice out of courtesy.

"Come in," came her voice from within the room.

Lucian opened the door to a dark room, the extinguished candle at her desk smoking quietly. He silently moved over to her chess table, retrieving her pawn from the floor and packing it away with the rest of the set.

"You really must be more sensitive with these pieces, Malady. This is a particularly valuable glass set." Lucian moved the board to its designated spot on the shelf. Jezebel sighed at her desk.

"I fear the smoke in this room has clouded my mind. Assist me to my quarters, Lucian, and do something about this wretched contamination."

As he opened the window behind her, Jezebel stood. Lucian allowed her to hook her arm through his as he lead her out of the room. Leaving the door open, he grinned in that sickly sweet way he had minutes before.

"I assure you, Malady, I already have."

* * *

**Author Note: My, a rather short chapter I'm afraid, despite it being a prologue. I do miss the length of my other story, but I believe this short representation is more appropriate for this type of fiction. Please, if you find any errors, alert me as soon as possible. I'll try to update soon. Thanks for reading. **

** -Terra**


End file.
